The Islamic call to prayer, the adhan, is hammered out five times a day by the muezzin. With a mosque just around the corner from our hotel, this tuneless ditty — you’ll have to excuse my irreverence –comes crashing through our windows like a sonic tsunami.
It therefore serves not only to beckon the faithful, but also does a bloody good job of waking sleeping babies; in particular, Lukie. Sarah is trying to get him back to sleep even as I type this.
I actually like the adhan. When you’re not used to it, it’s very atmospheric and instils one with a sense of undiscovered humanity. I’m sure it would get on my tits, though, if I lived across the road from a set of those massive, tinny, minaret-mounted megaphones.
Anyway, yesterday was a gorgeous sunny day and we spent it at Aya Sofya and the Sultan Ahmet Mosque a.k.a. the Blue Mosque, both very impressive sights.
Today started with a clear sky, too.
We took the tram from Sultanahmet to Eminönü and purchased tickets for a passenger boat up the Bosphorus. With rain predicted for the rest of the trip, it had seemed wise to make today our boating day, and Sarah had moved mountains to get us all out of the hotel and down to the boat on time.
By the time we boarded, which was just a few minutes prior to departure, the boat was packed. There was nowhere to sit, so we took up position by some railings. I then wandered off to find some decent vantage points for taking photos from the water.
The journey got under way and within about five minutes I had raised the ire of a hot-headed American, as belligerent as he was diminutive.
I had taken up position at some railings, from where I had begun to take a few photos. Within no time, this man was telling me to move, because I was blocking his view. Now, you have to understand that the boat was packed to the gills with people and it was standing room only for many.
My fellow passenger’s apparent belief that he had purchased a ticket that entitled him not only to fare up the river, but also to a seat with a guaranteed unobstructed view, seemed a bit rich to me, so I informed him that I had as much right to the view from the boat as he did.
At this point, his wife entered the fray, informing me that they had come early to secure seats with a view. If I desired such a view, I, too, should have come earlier. Such was her reasoning, at any rate.
Well, clearly the rest of mother Earth’s population had been put on the planet to serve at the pleasure of these two self-important little upstarts. Of course, I wasn’t having any of it, so I asserted my right to stay exactly where I was.
By now, things were becoming a bit heated and our little tête-à-tête was beginning to attract attention.
Out of the blue, the irksome little man threatened to throw me overboard; or perhaps it was my camera bag that he threatened to toss into the drink; I can’t quite remember now.
With many eyes now gazing in our direction, I reasoned that responding in kind was unlikely to yield anything constructive and may even result in other parties getting involved. My pocket-size adversary was many years my senior and his Napoleonic stature was dwarfed by my bulk, so any pushing and shoving between us would have had me looking like a thug, regardless of who had started it.
So, I told the man to shut up and behave himself. Those were literally my words, I think. His wife berated me, but then added a few words of caution in her husband’s direction and that was pretty much the end of the exchange.
Throughout the rest of the voyage, however, I observed on several occasions the overbearing, self-righteous attitude of a handful of pathetic tourists towards their fellow sightseers. Occasionally, one of these hapless souls would shuffle into the field of vision of somone with over-developed sense of entitlement.
How dare they block their line of sight to the outside world? This was a view for which they had set an alarm clock and got up at sparrow’s fart, god damn it. No-one, but no-one had the right to get between the lens of their video camera and the buildings lining the banks of the Bosphoros.
Silly fuckers.
I’ve never been on a boat-trip quite like it. I’ve been on a lot of tourist boats in my time and there has always been a good amount of give and take. No-one behaves as if they have more rights than anyone else and if someone gets in your way, you just stand up and move around them. I’ve never experienced anyone telling me where I could or couldn’t stand and I’ve certainly never had the audacity to suggest the same to another passenger.
Enough time spent on that anecdote.
We got off the boat at Sarıyer, the northernmost district of Istanbul on the European side of the city.. Almost 90 minutes had passed on the boat and we still weren’t even out of Istanbul: this is a huge city.
We had a look around Sarıyer and stopped for lunch, consisting of börek in both meat and cheese varieties. I’d forgotten how tasty it could be and resolved on the spot to get some from a Turkish bakery when we get back to Amsterdam.
After walking along the seafront, we found a playground, where Eloïse played happily on the climbing frame and swings. That left us just enough time for a coffee at a local hang-out, where I was served possibly the world’s worst ever cappuccino. As far as I could tell, the hot beverage that I was served contained no coffee. I’m not even sure the hot white liquid it did contain was milk.
It was then time to catch the boat for the return journey, which turned out to be a far more relaxed affair than the outward one. Yoghurt with a spoonful of sugar was served on board and went down a treat.
Back on the quay, there was just enough time to visit the Mısır Çarşısı, more commonly known as the Egyptian or Spice Bazaar. That was a feast for the eyes and nose, but not ones to neglect the taste buds, we took the opportunity to purchase what the Turks call lokum, better known in the English-speaking world as Turkish delight.
Dinner was the highlight of the day, at the delicious Hamdi Et Lokantasi restaurant. The food here was mouth-watering and the rooftop views across the Bosphoros and of the surrounding mosques were second to none. A delicious main dish was complemented by Turkish coffee and baklava.
In the meantime, the weather outside had turned against us and it was now pouring down. We got very, very wet on our return to Sultanahmet, but that could hardly dampen our spirits after the meal we’d just had.
It’s fair to say at this point that we love Istanbul. It’s a vibrant city with a pulse that makes one’s blood quicken. It’s partly European, partly Asian, with a slight Arabic overtone. There’s a joie de vivre here that it’s hard not to fall for. I hadn’t expected to like the city this much, but it’s really quite irresistible.